Secrets bond us to others. A secret that only you and one other person in the world know is a bond forged in titanium. To have that secret handed back to you, to carry alone and by yourself, is an impossibility. It just keeps the dead person from ever really dying. I found out that secrets are even stronger than death. They span immortality with grace and ease.
Some people have jewels in safe deposit boxes. I have a soul in some notebooks.
Four journals, moving from all mirror, to a cross-breed, to being able to finally force myself, at least most of the time, to write right.
Truth is a sword, a powerful weapon who takes no prisoners and spares not her speaker. Once unleashed, it rages beyond the control of man.
Spoiler Alert: Let me tell you how this story ends. Well, not how, exactly; that will follow. It’s called the rope-a-dope. It’s called “SAY MY NAME!” Sometimes you have to play dead. Sometimes, that’s the only play. Sometimes you have to wander in the desert. But it is true that all who wander are not…
Mother was big on impressing upon my memory just who was the boss. She felt that the memories of most people were not utilized as well as they could be. She said that the memory was like a dog, and wanted to be trained…
“You will remember this Arch forever, because you have impressed it into your mind, my darling Tami. You just took a picture that can never be destroyed, stolen, or lost. You just took a picture that you can take with you wherever you go, forever, and no one can ever take it away from you.”
“The act of writing is a mystical thing,” she continued. “More than the mere marks written upon a page; writing a thing down can actually bring that thing into being. It is already halfway there as soon as your pen touches the page! And understanding? Writing will rain down blessings of understanding and knowledge into your life! I tell you the truth, my little angel, the ballet of the pen is, at times, divine.”